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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157387">dust devils on the horizon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkumaStrife/pseuds/AkumaStrife'>AkumaStrife</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Western, Cowboys, M/M, Slow Burn, So much goddamn longing, What is plot but a thinly veiled road for the yearning of two queer boys to look at each other, Yearning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:33:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkumaStrife/pseuds/AkumaStrife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The days passed slow as molasses, and some days Jason’s eyes drifted and lingered slower. It was enough to drive a man mad, and Roy felt it; itching under the collar and fingers itching more to twist in Jason’s bandannas or holsters and tug. </p>
<p>Time slowed in those moments, sound dampening like they were the only two in the world, and hell, Roy lived for those moments. Gasping for them as much as a shift of fresh air as summer rolled and swelled into something unbearable. </p>
<p>Time slowed, and Roy was grateful for it. Mostly because he’d look at Jason and know that time was slipping from them. Soon enough the danger would pass, soon enough Jason would get the twitch for open roads, and he’d be gone, just as sudden as he came. </p>
<p>(Or: the western au no one asked for, where an outlaw takes refuge on a old friend's farm and maybe they fall in love, who knows not me. Hey @hallmark call me I just wanna talk.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Roy Harper/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dust devils on the horizon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well... here it is. The Joy Western AU I abandoned like 3 years ago, and yet ended up being possessed by anyway??? It was originally supposed to be Joyfire, and I have notes about Kori but it was just getting too long and I wanted it done and off my brain, and wanted self indulgent cowboy bullshit so here we have it. You're welcome, I wrote this for ME and Zomsaurus ONLY!!!!! It's his birthday so i had to finish it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roy Harper moved out west to start over, and then moved further onto his Uncle’s homestead to avoid trouble. Trouble liked to find him anyway. He was used to it.</p>
<p>And so he merely straightened from his crouch and leaned on his shovel as he waited for the sheriff and his jolly bullies to come up to the edge of the field. He didn’t remember leaving the main gate open, but Floyd Lawton and the rest of them rode right on through, helping themselves to whatever part of the land they fancied.</p>
<p>It was starting to get on Roy’s nerves. He just wanted to be left alone.</p>
<p>“Afternoon, boys,” Roy said, tipping his hat, and then tipping it back to hang, wiping his forehead with a kerchief.</p>
<p>Jade bared her teeth and did something of a hiss at him. <em>Christ. </em>She held grudges longer than a cat with its tail stepped on.</p>
<p>Klarion’s goddamn <em>actual cougar</em> picked up on the animosity and yowled in solidarity.</p>
<p>“And Jade, of course—Klarion, get that beast under control, you’ll spook my cattle.” Roy looked between them, the Sheriff and his three person posse who only cleaned up what suited them—Roy had been resolutely telling himself for the past two years that it wasn’t his business and his vigilante days were behind him. “Something I can help you with?”</p>
<p>“Hope so, Harper,” Floyd said. He didn’t give Roy the dignity to properly address him, just scanned his homestead with a sharp eye, his horse dancing under him. It was a nice horse, better than a man like that deserved. “Had any visitors lately?”</p>
<p>“None I’ve wished for,” Roy said. He smiled placidly at the sharp look it earned him.</p>
<p>Klarion spit at the ground, too close to Roy for him to miss it as coincidental.</p>
<p>“What’s all this about? I’ve got enough work today without having to keep company.”</p>
<p>“Jaybird’s escaped jail again. Killed one of the jailers. Raided a store, a stable, and a few pockets on his way out. Heard from a couple of ranchers he came out this way. Thought maybe you’d seen something.”</p>
<p>Roy leaned heavier on his shovel, scratching short nails through his hair as he thought. “Don’t think so. Just the doctor the other day, goin’ on toward the Marshal’s.”</p>
<p>Floyd sucked on his teeth as he frowned, nudging his horse to step closer to the house. His eyes scanned—caught—jerked back to something in particular</p>
<p>Roy glanced over his shoulder, catching the barn door swinging just slightly in the still, sticky air. “Barn door’s been loose all week. Been meaning to fix it.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be the judge of that.”</p>
<p>Roy picked up the shovel and stepped in front of the horse, glaring up even though the sun shone in his eyes. “I said, I ain’t seen nothin’. You want to look on my land, you’ll have to have probable cause.”</p>
<p>“S’not yours,” Klarion said, spitting again. Teekl rumbled low in his chest, crouching down, tail lashing</p>
<p>“Well enough,” Roy said, keeping a careful eye on that damn cat. “My name’s on the deed. But if you gotta problem with that, take it up with Uncle Ollie. Bet he’d love to be bothered all the way up in Star City for some petty squabble.” He turned a glare on Jade, turning suspicious on <em>her</em> and <em>them</em> instead of anything else.</p>
<p>“Jaybird’s dangerous,” Floyd growled. Roy watched his hands tighten on his reigns—</p>
<p>Waited—</p>
<p>“Hell with you,” Floyd spat, and wheeled his horse around. “C’mon, he can’t have gotten far into the hills. If not, we’ll know where else to look.”</p>
<p>Roy didn’t move a muscle until the kicking heels of the horses were up and over the hills to the east, and his farm was quiet once more. Just him, the animals, and bugs swarming in the heat.</p>
<p>“Christ,” Roy hissed. He threw the shovel down and tramped through the rows of potato furrows and hopped the low fence to keep the animals out, and threw the barn door open wider.</p>
<p>The barn was just as still as the rest of the farm, most of the animals out to pasture and his feral cat creaking somewhere up in the loft.</p>
<p>He picked up a trowel and jabbed at the lumpy stack of hay in the corner.</p>
<p>A voice swore and all but threw himself out of the pile, batting the tool away and swiping clinging hay from his front. “Jesus, Harper, careful with that thing. Could’a took an out eye.”</p>
<p>“I would’a, if I’d been aiming. Get. You said they wouldn’t be looking for you. <em>Horses</em>, Jay?”</p>
<p>Jason Todd grinned at him with the crooked assuredness of a handsome bastard who knew he was and could rob you with the distraction of one kiss, and lord did Roy know it. “They had Robin, had to get ‘im back. And if I took a couple more? Not my fault they didn’t know what they had, and I needed money.”</p>
<p>“Unbelievable.” Roy tossed the trowel against the side of the barn and picked up a pitchfork instead, tossing hay into troughs before he thought better of his aim and stuck Jason. “Haven’t seen you in over ten years and you drag trouble to my door. What would Bruce say?”</p>
<p>Shadows darkened Jason’s face, fists clenched at his side as his jaw visibly. “Don’t matter what he has to say. And I don’t want to hear you talkin’ about him again, alright?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah. How long you plan on stayin’, anyway?”</p>
<p>Jason shrugged, and Roy didn’t even need to be looking to see it; Jason wore so much leather every gesture was audible. “Couple days?”</p>
<p>“That’s what you said a couple days ago.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well now Floyd’s sniffing around. Can’t exactly slip out under his bloodhound nose.”</p>
<p>“You haven’t changed a bit,” Roy accused, but it was softer than maybe it warranted. Because Jason <em>had </em>changed. A lot. Back to what he’d been when Roy had first met him, when they’d be kids; just two foster kids running into each other in big houses they weren’t comfortable in while their guardians discussed businesses in parlors they weren’t allowed to step foot in. The one thing that hadn’t changed was the way Jason smiled with all his teeth.</p>
<p>It just meant something different these days.</p>
<p>“If you’re gonna be hanging around and bothering me, you might as well help,” he decided. He straightened and gave Jason a once over, pretending to not be impressed by what he saw. He cut a damn good figure in black, though, as impractical as it was. And the streak of white in his dark hair, vain as shit for someone trying to run from the law, but it was a stark warning, like a brightly colored snake. Jason <em>was</em> dangerous, the sheriff wasn’t wrong.</p>
<p>Roy would just have to remember to wear gloves when handling him.</p>
<p>“Go inside the house and change. Should have things to fit you. You look ridiculous. Black dyes aren’t cheap, won’t have you ruining your fancy clothes and sweat to death at the same time. Fields won’t weed themselves.”</p>
<p>Jason just grinned again, winking, and had the audacity to saunter. “Black hides bloodstains best.”</p>
<p>“Unbelievable,” Roy told himself again. “Just a couple of days. And then he’ll be gone.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A couple of days turned into more, turned into a week and then a month. Long enough Roy felt bad sending him out to sleep with the horses, and pulled out thin cushions for him to bed down in front of the hearth. Jason was good help around the homestead, and really was in some serious trouble with the law. And in the front room he acted just as good as a guard dog, if Roy was worried about such things.</p>
<p>That’s what Roy told himself, mostly, when he caught himself watching Jason moving around in his clothes. The lighter creams and browns suited his darker tan just fine, and only highlighted how Jason’s build was bulkier than his.</p>
<p>A whole lot of trouble, and mighty damn nice to watch.</p>
<p>A little jumpy, though. <em>Still. </em>Roy didn’t blame him. But sometimes he caught Jason at the window in the mornings, staring out at the vast stretch of land between them and everyone else. Empty, but full of specters for Jason all the same. Caught him looking out east when he had him helping in the fields, distracted and moody.</p>
<p>Roy always asked and Jason always dismissed him with some convenient lie or tease to get Roy blushing and forget all about it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The days turned steadily hotter, stifling the air. It stripped the moisture from their lungs, and had their clothes soaked before midday.</p>
<p>But the crops wouldn’t wait. They had to be tended to. Had to be watered, just as much as the livestock, who kept close to the fence and the troughs as Jason refilled them countless times each day.</p>
<p>It was hard work. It was thankless work. The fruits of their labor wouldn’t show until harvest, but Jason put his head down and threw himself into each chore alongside Roy with little complaint.</p>
<p>He was distracting as hell. Roy felt like a new colt at times, stumbling and dropping things with Jason parading about sweat-soaked and his thin cotton shirt sleeves rolled up and out of his way, shirt flayed open to let in some sort of breeze despite Roy telling him he was gonna get sunburned waltzing around like that.</p>
<p>Sweating like a sinner in church, but it wasn’t the heat half the time.</p>
<p>When Jason offered to do the washing in the big metal tub out back, Roy jumped at it, piling the basket and soap in Jason’s arms and pushing him toward the trees off the edge of the corn field. “Why don’t you take it down to the creek? Give you some time to cool off, get away from the heat.”</p>
<p>“You sayin’ I smell, Harper?” Jason asked, mouth crooked and eyes twinkling.</p>
<p>“Not <em>not </em>saying it,” and gave him another push to get him moving.</p>
<p>He’d have liked to go down to the creek himself, but not if it meant listening to his own heart pound.  Peace and quiet was preferable, even if the afternoon was already sweltering.</p>
<p>Jason was barely gone a quarter of an hour when the sound of horses brought him to the front of the barn, gripping the edge of the door hard as the Sheriff and his posse came into view.</p>
<p>His eyes cut to the line of trees where Jason had gone. But there was no way to get word to him without alerting them. He just had to hope Jason heard them too, and didn’t come whistling out into the fields without looking first.</p>
<p>Roy came out to meet them, leaning on the gate of the property, making no move to unlock it.</p>
<p>“Afternoon, folks. Seems like we just did this. Something new I can help you with?”</p>
<p>Floyd’s eyes swept the field behind Roy.</p>
<p>And then caught.</p>
<p>“Mighty fine horse you got there.”</p>
<p>Roy twisted, biting back a curse as Robin wandered along the fence, pretty as a show pony, withers combed and gleaming jet black. Jason took care of him like they were 're the last two things each other got in the world. Maybe they were.</p>
<p>Some nights when he couldn’t sleep and he wandered out onto the porch to breathe, he’d see the lamp on in the barn and hear Jason’s quiet drawl as he and the horse had some sort of heart-to-heart.</p>
<p>“Yeah. He’s new. Gift from my Uncle.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t know he’s been through.”</p>
<p>Roy shrugged one shoulder, tipping his hat back with a finger so he could meet Floyd’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Well, boy, you gonna invite us in?”</p>
<p>“Didn’t know that’s what you were after.” Roy hesitated, but finally stepped back and unlatched the gate, swinging it open. “I was just about to put on a pot of coffee, why don’t you join me, tell me what all this is about.”</p>
<p>He led the group around the front of the barn to the house, keeping up idle chatter to keep any of them from wandering off where he didn’t want them. Which was just about everywhere.</p>
<p>The lot of them tramped into the front room, Roy smirking at how Lawrence Crock had to duck through the door to keep from bashing his head.</p>
<p>He put on the kettle, fiddling with the kindling in the stove, and tried not to look at the window overlooking the tree line.</p>
<p>“Got a visitor?” Klarion asked, whistling low.</p>
<p>Roy grunted, half-turning. His eyes caught on Jason’s damned black boots behind the door where he’d kicked them some days ago, at the same time Floyd’s did.</p>
<p>“They’re mine,” he lied. He hadn’t owned anything so fine in quite some time. Jason’s vanity was gonna get them both killed.</p>
<p>“Another gift from that uncle of y’rs?”</p>
<p>Roy shook his head. His eyes found Jade and a thought flickered within grasp. “Ex-fiance. Couldn’t bare to throw them out, when he walked.” Jason would laugh himself sick when he heard all this later.</p>
<p>Jade inhaled sharp, thin mouth twisting thinner. She stalked out of the house, and alarm flared in Roy’s chest, having them split up like that, but Jade only went back to the horses, plucking a bit of tobacco out of tin from her vest.</p>
<p>Roy exhaled.</p>
<p>“Always knew you had shit taste,” Klarion jeered.</p>
<p>Floyd sat at the table, kicking out Jason’s chair for Klarion. “That happen recently?” His expression touted only professional interest, but Roy would bet next year’s seed he was probing for holes. Roy was notorious for keeping to himself. Their town wasn’t exactly small, but an engagement would’ve been heard about.</p>
<p>He shrugged, filling four mugs and taking his own back to lean against the counter next to the stove. He only held it, the heat unpleasant against his skin when the house was muggy enough in the afternoon. “Recent enough to still have ‘em, but not so that I wanted to see if they fit. What, you don’t think they’re my color?”</p>
<p>Floyd snorted, amusement turning his lips.</p>
<p> “So what brings you gentleman past my farm again?”</p>
<p>“That ruffian, Jaybird. Still eluding the law,” Floyd said. He drank deeply from the mug, humming despite himself as he did. “Broke into two ranches last week, skimmed a coupl’a cattle from each. Haven’t tracked them down yet, but we will. And a banker.”</p>
<p>Roy lifted his head from the rim of his mug, thoughts flashing to a supper last week—a nice supper of steaks with two thick haunches hanging out to smoke for the winter—remembered the tight roll of crisp bills hidden away in Jason’s holster when he’d tossed it onto the table as he’d swept in, blood across his knuckles, eye blackened, all up in a rage about—</p>
<p>“What about a banker?” <em>No, please, if there’s a god out there—</em></p>
<p><em>“</em>Dead,” Floyd said, pinning Roy with a stare he couldn’t break. “Bullet through the head, and a hefty sum taken from the vaults.”</p>
<p>Roy’s lungs caught hard, hands clamping around his mug so he didn’t drop it.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I knew I’d seen that face before! Corrupt as they come and now Cobblepot’s out there preying on good, honest folk!’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I told you to stay out of town, Jay, christ. What if you’d been spotted?’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘You needed dry goods, said it yourself. Wasn’t about to let you throw me out because you let me eat too much of your good cookin’. Don’t matter. What matters is that Cobblepots is a bag of maggots and I can’t believe he’s got folk so fooled. He’s luring them in with miracle loans and then takin’ them for all they’re worth when they default.’</em>
</p>
<p>“He was corrupt,” Roy blurted. “That banker.”</p>
<p>Floyd froze, lowing his mug and leaning back in his chair. “Was he now? And how’d you come about that?”</p>
<p>“People talk.” He swallowed, licking his lips as he scrambled. “When I was in to the store. People were talking. All up in arms.”</p>
<p>“This wasn’t a mob situation, <em>boy.”</em></p>
<p>“Just sharing what I know,” Roy said. “Wasn’t that why you’re here?”</p>
<p>Lawrence grunted. He got up and put his empty mug in the sink, nodding his thanks to Roy.</p>
<p>He might be a bully, but at least his mama raised him with some manners.</p>
<p>“And you haven’t seen a hair of him?”</p>
<p>Roy was quiet a moment, as if trying to follow his train of thought. “The outlaw? No, sir. Don’t know why he’d bother with the likes of me.”</p>
<p>Floyd hummed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time they all left, Roy’s nerves were too worn out to be riled anymore. He didn’t think they had cause to think Jason was around, but they were suspicious all the same. Roy couldn’t help that. All he could do was cover their tracks as best he could.</p>
<p>He was still trying to figure what they’d do, if Floyd caught Jason, when the devil himself came out of the trees, whistling like he hadn’t a care in the whole damn world.</p>
<p>It soured something in Roy’s gut. But not enough to miss appreciating the drip of creek water over Jason’s neck before evaporating under the bright sun.</p>
<p>“Fine timing you got,” Roy spat. He yanked the washing basket from Jason because if he didn’t he might’ve grabbed something else and now <em>really</em> wasn’t the time. “Sheriff’s still sniffing around. Your damned penchant for black nearly gave us away.”</p>
<p>Jason hummed, and only followed at Roy’s heel over to the lines set up in the orchard, the trees breaking any wind that would kick dust into their clean clothes.</p>
<p>“I waited, didn’t I?”</p>
<p>His hand came into the corner of Roy’s vision and dragged along his jaw, making Roy freeze, hands clamped around a shirt, lungs clamped around breath.</p>
<p>A calloused finger, somehow always smelling slightly of gun smoke, curled under Roy’s chin and tilted him to look up. “I know you’re not givin’ me away, I trust you, Harper. C’mon, would I be here otherwise?”</p>
<p>“Dunno if I can trust you,” Roy breathed, all of himself <em>aching </em>to lean in. He couldn’t. He couldn’t, it’d be all over.</p>
<p>Hurt rippled over Jason’s face, brows pinching under that forelock of white.</p>
<p>“The <em>banker</em>, Jay?”</p>
<p>Jason sneered, yanking his hand away and turning in a huff. Roy missed his touch already and that was <em>dangerous. </em></p>
<p><em> “</em>He was <em>a criminal</em>, Roy! You know it well as I!”</p>
<p>“Then he should’a been turned in! Now the Sheriff’s gonna double down on you.”</p>
<p>Jason waved him off, spinning and pacing away from him. “You know that cad wasn’t gonna do a damn thing about <em>real</em> crime. Too wrapped up chasing petty shit to seem busy. Bet he was in that man’s pocket anyway. What’s the point of me if I can’t do things outside the law that need to be done?”</p>
<p>“Because it’s outside the law! You’re gonna get caught one of these days and then where will I—” and bit it off viciously, ‘bout swallowing his tongue and some blood while he was at it.</p>
<p>Jason stopped, stilled, turned to look at him.</p>
<p>Roy hated himself for looking back and <em>wanting</em>, for taking the opportunity to admire the jutting cut of his jaw, the square of his mouth, the ever-present stubble that Roy’d thought too many times would feel like heaven and hell against his thighs.</p>
<p>“You can’t have both,” he told Jason—he told himself.</p>
<p>“No?” Jason asked, quiet as a prairie breeze.</p>
<p>Roy jerked his eyes away and stalked for the barn, throwing the shirt at Jason on his way by. “Finish hanging the laundry.”</p>
<p>“And where’re you going?”</p>
<p>Roy ignored him, whistling a sharp collection of notes that had Arsenal cantering across the pasture and waiting antsy by the gate to be let out. Roy got his bow and quiver from the barn first before leading the horse through the gate, and swung himself up across his wide back without any tack. The uncomplicated feel of just him and the horse helped clear his head already.</p>
<p>“<em>Roy.”</em></p>
<p>“I’ll bring something back for supper,” Roy answered, gruff. He wouldn’t make Jason worry like he did to Roy every damn time he slipped off in the night like a coyote.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unfortunately, he was an exceptional hunter. His first foster father had made sure of that. Wasn’t a couple of hours before he had three fat hares, but his own thoughts were only halfway untangled and under control.</p>
<p>There wasn’t much for it. He was still upset, but for different reasons than first thought, and the longer he stayed away from the homestead, the more there’d be to do later when it was dark. The quiet had been nice, if nothing else.</p>
<p>When he returned, the washing had all been hung, the livestock all fed, and the rest of the weeding done. Mostly. He found Jason knelt down in the dirt at the end of one row, mouth pinched, as he pinched out each gangly sprout like it’d personally shot his mother.</p>
<p>“That won’t keep ‘em from comin’ back,” Roy said, once he tired of watching Jason. (A pretty lie, he’d never tire, he didn’t think.)</p>
<p>“It <em>might</em>,” Jason said. “Waste of damn time, babysittin’ vegetables like I ain’t got better things to do.”</p>
<p>Roy nudged Arsenal closer with his knees. When Jason didn’t look up, he stretched out his leg to tip Jason’s hat off with the point of his boot.</p>
<p>Jason stilled, and then shifted on his knees, straightening his spine with a grimace and a <em>crack, </em>and settled back on his heels.</p>
<p>It was a mistake.</p>
<p>Jason’s dirty hands hung between his knees and he squinted up at Roy with those blue eyes. He swallowed, visibly, and Roy tracked that little bob of his adams apple.</p>
<p>He lifted his foot again, pressing his boot <em>just so</em> against that spot.</p>
<p>“What?” Jason asked, rough. It wasn’t anger, though his brows were furrowed. It was something headier—the easy tilt of his chin back a challenge Roy couldn’t accept. Not right now.</p>
<p>He swallowed himself, nudging Arsenal back a few steps. “I’m still mad at you.”</p>
<p>Jason’s lips twisted and widened into a smirk, eyes flicking up and down Roy’s leg. “You sure?”</p>
<p>“Yes. This farm… it’s all I’ve got left. I was real low when Uncle Ollie offered it to me and I <em>like</em> it. I’m not gonna let you jeopardize that.”</p>
<p>“Never my intention, Harper.”</p>
<p>“Sometimes I wonder. You’re used to living just you and the wild, but that doesn’t <em>work</em> here. If you wanna stay—while you’re in danger of being caught—you can’t keep sneakin’ off and doing whatever the hell you damn well please. You can’t keep dragging trouble back with you. You lie low, you behave, and when this all blows over, then you can do whatever the hell you want. But not while you’re stayin’ here, Todd, you hear me?”</p>
<p>Some of the easiness drained from Jason’s face. He swallowed, looking down. Pinched at another wayward weed. “Suppose that’s fair.”</p>
<p>It was too bad that Roy didn’t quite believe him.</p>
<p>“Good, long as we’re clear. Now, up you get.” He lifted the twine of strung hares draped over Arsenal’s neck, showing them to Jason. “What’d’you think of stew?”</p>
<p>Jason grimaced even as his eyes caught hungry on the line of them. “It’s too hot for that.”</p>
<p>“We’ll cook outside. You haven’t been off the road long enough to forget, did you? Go dig a pit and I’ll get the deep pot from inside.”</p>
<p>For everything simmering between them, it was startlingly easy to fall into a rhythm. Jason did as he was told, digging a fire pit and rounding it with large, flat stones. He arranged kindling and wood to cradle the large pot Roy brought out to him. It was still hot, for all that it was almost dusk, but he felt better working at something.</p>
<p>He set Jason to dressing down the hares while he peeled and cut vegetables, measuring out a few thick cuts of bacon and a half cup of cornmeal to thicken it later. Neither spoke but for a few muttered questions and direction, but it was easier than it’d been in a while.</p>
<p>Darkness settled fully by the time they were finished. Jason sat beside him on the log he’d dragged over (arms bulging the whole time and Roy had been helpless but to watch,) his head tipped back to the stars.</p>
<p>Roy tried to watch the flickering fire instead of the column of his throat.</p>
<p>Jason shoved a flask under his nose.</p>
<p>Roy shook his head, pushing his hand away. “I don’t drink, Jay.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you?” Jason pulled it back to tip it up for another swallow, eyes glowing in the shadows of the fire.</p>
<p>“Drank too much, once.” More than once. For too long. “I won’t let it ruin me again.”</p>
<p>“I won’t let it. Promise. C’mon.” He sipped at the mouthpiece, and then licked his lips, too close to the flask to see where his tongue had really gone. “Just a taste with me. Steady those nerves of yours.” He reached again, holding the flask to Roy’s lips, holding his gaze.</p>
<p>The metal was warm, and damp. Sticky with the liquor, and the air sharp.</p>
<p>He let Jason tip a little across his tongue. It burned going down, just like Jason’s gaze, neither unpleasant. </p>
<p>It took too long to make himself swallow, caught in Jason’s pull.</p>
<p>It wasn’t fair.</p>
<p>It <em>wasn’t</em>.</p>
<p>Jason wasn’t for him. No matter how much he might want. Jason was made for endless roads, vast prairies; made to be lit up sharp like this against the fire and under the stars. Jason was made for rougher life, riding himself and the horse hard, and one hand on his gun with an eye turned for trouble. It fit Jason well; Roy’d had to see it every day since he hid in his barn and scared half the life out of him.</p>
<p>Jason was a traveler, always a visitor and never made to stay. Restless.</p>
<p>Roy had tried that life, once, but it hadn’t stuck. It wasn’t for him, and deep down he thought they both knew it.</p>
<p>Roy cleared his throat and shifted, getting to his feet, knees cracking. “Thanks. I should get inside. Early start tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Always something to do,” Jason parroted, softly.</p>
<p>Roy glanced at him—got caught on those open blue eyes like th hottest part of a candle flame—and quickly looked away. “You got this?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ll clean up. You go on in.”</p>
<p>Roy nodded: to Jason, to himself, to no one in particular, to god himself under the boundless sky.</p>
<p>He went in, but didn’t sleep for a long time that night; holding his breath and listening to Jason moving in the front room, wondering and hating every time those phantom steps came close to his door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The days passed slow as molasses, and some days Jason’s eyes drifted and lingered slower. It was enough to drive a man mad, and Roy felt it; itching under the collar and fingers itching more to twist in Jason’s bandannas or holsters and <em>tug. </em></p>
<p>Time slowed in those moments, sound dampening like they were the only two in the world, and hell, Roy lived for those moments. Gasping for them as much as a shift of fresh air as summer rolled and swelled into something unbearable.</p>
<p>Time slowed, and Roy was grateful for it. Mostly because he’d look at Jason and know that time was slipping from them. Soon enough the danger would pass, soon enough Jason would get the twitch for open roads, and he’d be gone, just as sudden as he came.</p>
<p>Roy was living on borrowed time and he tried not to think about it. His life was here, and it didn’t have space for a dangerous man who looked at him sometimes like he’d like nothing more than to disrespect every inch of him.</p>
<p>Roy couldn’t think about how much he wanted that.</p>
<p>Naturally, he thought of little else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Plow’s busted,” Jason groused, stomping up onto the porch, yanking his gloves off with his teeth.</p>
<p>Roy couldn’t find his words for a moment too long, watching. But then they settled, made sense, and he frowned. “What?”</p>
<p>“Hit a rock or somethin’.” Jason crumpled his hat in his fist, glaring at the floor like he was worried Roy was gonna shout, or maybe kick him out. “Coupl’a the teeth broke.”</p>
<p>Roy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his handkerchief (with Jason’s, red as busted berries and snagged off the wash line) as he squinted up into the sun. Not quite noon.</p>
<p>“Alright.”</p>
<p>Jason jerked his head up, brow furrowed.</p>
<p>“Hitch up the team to the cart. Plenty of day left, we’ll take it into town and see if we can get it fixed. Need to pick up some things anyway.” It’d been longer and longer between each of his last trips to town—avoiding Floyd as much as possible and keeping suspicions low about Jay. But it couldn’t be helped. Plow needed fixing now.</p>
<p>“We?”</p>
<p>Roy shrugged, scuffing his boot against the porch. “Be a lot easier with help, Jay. Hell, I dunno. Keep y’r damn head down and face covered and maybe no one will notice your dashing face plastered all over town. We’ll pretend you’re simple hired help, a man of few words,” and managed to make it sound like a threat.</p>
<p>Jason grinned crooked and sharp, eyes flashing. He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “Dashing? Well, damn, Harper, guess I should clean up if you intend to parade me about.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not.” Roy yanked Jason’s hat out of his hand, fingering those damn white bangs up onto his head and slapping his hat down on top of it, hiding it from view. That ought to help, if nothing else. He twisted a finger in the kerchief around Jason’s neck and tugged it up over his mouth. Whether it was more conspicuous or not, it’d hide Jason the best.</p>
<p>The back of his finger grazed against Jason’s chapped lips.</p>
<p>Jason’s eyes <em>simmered</em> with heat and something dangerously liquid that threatened and promised all at once to suck him in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Main street was too busy for their own good by the time they rolled into town. Roy put a warning hand on the back of Jason’s head, pushing it down just a little, just enough.</p>
<p>A few people on the street raised their hands in greeting, shouting something he couldn’t hear over the general din of town bustle. He waved back, giving tight smiles, and kept the horses pointed toward the south end and the blacksmith. Timothy was one of the best metal workers in the west, and had fixed much worse in a pinch for him. A little dodgy, a little young, but they were all running from something when you came his far out.</p>
<p>He directed Jason to pull the wagon up alongside the workshop and jumped down to go in and find Timothy.</p>
<p>Timothy was slight and still looked far too young to be out here all by himself, even if he wasn’t. But he had that kind of face, and Roy worried about him sometimes when rougher groups made their way through the area.</p>
<p>“Well if it isn’t Harper,” Timothy said with a smile, putting down his tools and wiping greasy hands on his apron. “Can’t remember the last time you darkened my doorway. Glad to assume you’ve taken care of your equipment.”</p>
<p>“Well enough,” Roy said easily. He nodded his chin in a belated greeting. “Not today though. Plow’s broken a couple of teeth. Hoped you’d have time to mend it before I had to head back.”</p>
<p>“Probably, let’s have a look.” He waved Roy out and followed, squinting against the midday sun.</p>
<p>And then Timothy gasped, his face breaking open vulnerable and so <em>young</em> as he whispered, “Jason?”</p>
<p>Roy looked between the young blacksmith and the man in his cart, watching both washed in recognition and hurt.</p>
<p>Jason’s shuttered closed faster than a school teacher with a window on a rainy day. He swore and climbed out of the cart and shoved his hands into his pockets and stormed off as fast as he could short of running.</p>
<p>“Jason…” Timothy repeated, hand out as if he could physically stop him, eyes wide as if seeing a ghost. Knowing Jason, maybe he was.</p>
<p>“Wait here, wait, just—<em>fuck</em>,” Roy muttered and took off after Jason. He caught up some three streets away.</p>
<p>“Jay, <em>what—</em>” and stopped. Jason leaned against the backside of the saloon, hands on his knees and gasping like he was drowning. “Hey, hey, Jay, you’re okay, you’re…” He fumbled, then fell to his knees so he could try to catch Jason’s eye under his hunch and his hat. Took Jason’s hands in his and ordered, “<em>Breathe.”</em></p>
<p>Jason did, ragged and desperate and looking at him only for a second but with such vitriol Roy recoiled.</p>
<p>“Don’t fucking touch me,” he seethed, and Roy couldn’t help how he thought maybe it sounded more like, <em>help. </em></p>
<p>But Jason Todd wasn’t someone who let himself be helped.</p>
<p>“I’m not going back,” Jason said, almost a growl. He was shaking.</p>
<p>“No one says you have to. Jay, who—”</p>
<p>Jason yanked his hands away, eyes wild and flighty as Robin when he got spooked by a snake. He shoved Roy back down when he’d tried to stand, and shouldered the back door to the saloon open.</p>
<p>Roy sat in the dust for a moment, ears ringing with the quiet, and then swore as he pushed himself up, patting the dust out of his pants.</p>
<p>Footsteps at the mouth of the alley and Roy jerked his head up (hoping, stupidly,) but all he caught was a whirl of a dark green coat.</p>
<p>He turned right away and returned to the smithy; scorned. If Jason was going throw a tantrum, he could do it alone, Roy thought unkindly.</p>
<p>Timothy wasn’t alone when he stepped back into the yard. He had a much bigger man with him, holding him warmly as Timothy gazed up at him, talking fast and low. The plow was already out of the wagon and in the shop.</p>
<p>“Manage the plow all by yourself?” he asked, announcing his presence and removing his hat to fan at himself.</p>
<p>The man smiled at him, as sweet as a field of sunflowers. “Been thinking that’s why Timmy keeps me around.”</p>
<p>“Might be,” Timothy said, swatting his chest, blushing when the man only laughed and rocked him from side to side. “Roy, this is Conner. He helps when he has a minute.”</p>
<p>“I see,” Roy said with an easy smile. “Nice to meet you.”</p>
<p>Conner tipped his chin right back. “I should get back to work… You gonna be okay, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>Timothy cut a glance to Roy, blushing darker. “Fine. Go on, get, I have work.”</p>
<p>Conner laughed and ducked in to steal a kiss despite Timothy’s sputtering.</p>
<p>Roy watched, chest aching with a half dozen feelings he had no business harboring.</p>
<p>He waited until Conner was gone and Timothy was bent over the problem area of his plow before leaning against a hitching post. “So… you know Jay.”</p>
<p>Timothy’s shoulders jerked up around his ears.</p>
<p>“You both looked at each like you were seein’ ghosts. You don’t have to tell me, but… Jay’s been staying with me, and I need you to keep this under wraps. No one can know he’s here.”</p>
<p>Timothy barked a laugh, bitter and humorless. “In trouble again? Why’m I not surprised. He’s always in some sort of trouble. Used to drive Bruce mad.”</p>
<p>Several things fell into place and Roy nearly slipped off the post, stumbling to right himself. “You’re… you’re one of the—”</p>
<p>“Wayne acquisitions,” Timothy said, curt. He nodded. “I was there before Jason left.”</p>
<p>“Was it really so bad?” Roy whispered.</p>
<p>Timothy’s mouth twisted into something complex and unfathomable. “No. Not really. But sometimes… sometimes things couldn’t be helped.”</p>
<p>Roy would’ve asked more. <em>Wanted</em> to ask more. Not just for curiosity sake, but wanting so badly to understand parts of Jason that eluded him.   </p>
<p>But when he opened his mouth, a gunshot swallowed his words.</p>
<p>Roy was upright and sprinting for main street before Timothy had enough managed to drop his tools. He couldn’t be sure, but the dread in his gut urged him faster.</p>
<p>
  <em>Not him, not Jason, it’s not—</em>
</p>
<p>He couldn’t have found trouble that fast.</p>
<p>People were scattering away from main street, ducking behind barrels and carts, shouting in alarm, though none of them looked like they knew exactly what was happening.</p>
<p>Roy didn’t, either, for a too long set of precious seconds. There wasn’t anyone out of place, no gang of ruffians, no duel planted firmly at either end of the street, no blood or wounded—</p>
<p>A flash of black-and-white caught his eye.</p>
<p>Something <em>screamed, </em>either woman or animal or something inhuman all together.</p>
<p>He leapt behind a wagon and peaked around the other side, for a dangerous moment unable to hear anything over the pounding of his heart.</p>
<p>The benches and barrels in front of the saloon were all overturned, one of the doors hanging from a screw. Jason was behind the wreckage, but not <em>hiding</em> like he should be.</p>
<p>“Go on, shoot me, you vicious hag!”</p>
<p>“Fucking <em>idiot,”</em> Roy hissed, looking where Jason had his gun train. And then swore again.</p>
<p>Jade Nguyen was the spitting image of fury. Out in the open, not a damn fear in her poised body. She must’ve gotten Jason right where she wanted him.</p>
<p>They must’ve ran into each other in the saloon, <em>fuck. </em></p>
<p>He heard horses from the next street over, glanced between two building and saw the flash of the rest of the Sheriff’s posse. Except…</p>
<p>Two shots rang out and he looked back, sick with worry he’d see Jason crumple. But Jason’s face was slashed with a wild grin, utterly jagged like the outlaw he was.</p>
<p>Jade dodged the two shots, expression twisted ugly and eager. Her own gun came up, and Jason ducked just in time, the edge of a post exploding with the shot.</p>
<p>Something itched at the back of his thoughts, scratching through the fear.</p>
<p>Jade and Jason were probably well matched, if they hadn’t managed to hit each other yet.</p>
<p>Lawrence and Klarion were on their way, and with Klarion’s demon cat, Jason would be horribly outgunned. But—</p>
<p>The <em>Sheriff. </em></p>
<p>Roy threw himself to the other side of the wagon, double-checked, and then rolled out and behind another piece of cover.</p>
<p>On the other side of the street, everyone else distracted, he caught a shadow moving.</p>
<p>Sheriff Floyd, tucked in the dark corner between the county jail and the butcher’s. Floyd Lawton, reformed criminal, once called Deadshot because he was rumored to never missing his mark, had out a pistol and unwaveringly trained on Jason’s unguarded face.</p>
<p>Floyd never missed. No amount of distraction would shake him.</p>
<p>Roy’s heart leapt into his throat, blinding fear choking him.</p>
<p>This was exactly what Roy was afraid of, all those months ago when a grimy and handsome outlaw climbed his porch.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Long time no see, Harper.’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Jesus fucking—I thought you were dead!’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘And miss seeing how pretty you look when you’re angry at me? Never. You got a cup of coffee for a weary cowboy?’ </em>
</p>
<p>Maybe Roy shouldn’t known better. Maybe Roy should’ve known, at all.</p>
<p>Maybe no matter what, they were always going to end up right here, no matter how careful they were.</p>
<p>Deadshot never missed. But maybe he didn’t have to.</p>
<p>Roy jumped up and ran before he could think better of it.</p>
<p>All he could hear was the <em>woosh</em> of humid air and his own rabbit-fast heart.</p>
<p>“Jay,” he called, a warning, but too quiet in the end to be one.</p>
<p>He saw those blue eyes squint at him, saw the dawning fear.</p>
<p>Heard the gunshot.</p>
<p>Hit Jason like a train—</p>
<p>Hit with a pain like a hammer left too long in the fire, tearing a shout from his lips—</p>
<p>And then everything went black.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>~*~</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was too hard for Roy to open his eyes.</p>
<p>Everything was blurry and dry and hot; everything was too loud and too much; everything hurt like being burned alive.</p>
<p>He was jostled and yelled at, poked and moved too sharply.</p>
<p>He slid under the murky darkness again, when that was so much easier.</p>
<p>He wondered, anyway, if Jason was okay.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He woke again to shadows and then a smear of glistening blue. A rough hand on his chin, so gentle Roy shivered.</p>
<p>But maybe that’s because he was freezing.</p>
<p>He tried to say something, but all that came was a dry crack.</p>
<p>Good enough.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next time he woke, he was finally clear enough to wonder if he was dead.</p>
<p>He felt it. Heavy and cold and feverish at the same time. Stiff and aching. Weak.</p>
<p>He turned his head, wincing at the twinge in his neck, and could almost make out a figure next to him—in a bed, he was in a bed, somewhere—blurry in the candlelight. Or maybe he was dying and his vision was going first.</p>
<p>Maybe he was dying and that was the devil himself ready to drag him down. That didn’t seem quite fair. He’d made a lot of mistakes, but he’d tried to make up for them too, and didn’t it count that he’d saved the love of his life with his own? A trade.</p>
<p>He tried to move, but he was too weak, too tired. And his hand was weighed down.</p>
<p>At least that part of him was warm.</p>
<p>The devil could have him, he supposed, when he squeezed his hand so nicely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Roy’s eyes were open and staring at the covered window before he really clued into the fact that he was awake.</p>
<p>Gradual, and then jarring.</p>
<p>He tried to swallow, tried to wet his lips, but his throat ached and everything was too dry. He coughed, uncontrollable and aching.</p>
<p>“Shh, shh, I got’cha.”</p>
<p>A cup was pressed against his lips and Roy drank so greedily there was a moment he was worried it was all going to come back up.</p>
<p>A hand pushed back his hair, and then lingered, and all Roy could do was close his eyes and savor it, eyes hot and watering.</p>
<p>“You with me, Harper?”</p>
<p>“Jay?” he asked, voice cracking from dryness or emotion or maybe how long he’d been out and not speaking. “Is the devil gone, or was it you all the time?”</p>
<p>Jason laughed, low and helpless. The sound was so welcome that a few more tears dripped down his face without his meaning to. Jason didn’t say anything about it, just wiped it away with his thumb.</p>
<p>“Ain’t the devil, no matter what people may say. You’re… shit, Harper, you’re alive, you’re gonna be okay.”</p>
<p>“Did I die?”</p>
<p>“No, you idiot. You got shot.”</p>
<p>“<em>You</em> were gonna get shot,” Roy remembered all in a rush, the anger returning to him. “You were gonna—Jason Peter Todd, you were out in the open like a fool and Jade was going—<em>Floyd was </em>gonna blow your idiot brains out and then I’d be—I couldn’t—You’re—” He choked on the rest, gasping wet and pathetic, vision swimming as waves of vertigo overtook him.</p>
<p>Jason shushed him again. Smoothed his hair back and squeezed his hand until Roy calmed enough he wasn’t gasping. He hated it; being coddled and pitied just because he almost died, like Jason didn’t <em>fucking know. </em></p>
<p>“No, no, I’m angry at you,” Roy said, but couldn’t quite muster the energy to open his eyes or raise his voice.</p>
<p>“Sure, sweetheart, be as angry as you want.”</p>
<p>Roy’s lungs caught, his heart squeezing. “Don’t. Don’t, Jay, I swear to god don’t do that because I got shot, I can’t do that with you.”</p>
<p>The hand disappeared from his head and he opened his eyes and looked over, about to take it all back if only Jason would touch him again.</p>
<p>Jason was frowning. Not quite looking at him, his expression stormy. Angry at someone, if not himself. “Not just because of this,” he mumbled.</p>
<p>He stood, crossing his arms tightly, and then uncrossing them to grab his hat from the bedside. “You rest. I’ll go find some supper. Doc said we can get home soon as you’re well enough to sit up.”   </p>
<p>Roy flailed a hand out, catching Jason’s shirt. His heart tripped over that, the words, the intention. It was too much. It was all too goddamn much.</p>
<p>Jason stopped, looking down at him for a long, unreadable moment. “We’ll go back, and I promised to stick around and take care of the hard parts while you get that arm working again.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>Jason took his hand carefully, rubbing his palm for a second, and then inhaled like he’d forgotten where he was and placed it back down on the bed. “We’ll figure it out. Spent too damn long weeding to let the vegetables go to rot.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Roy whispered as Jason ducked out of the room. Must’ve been one of the ones at the hotel, the bed was too nice to be the cots he knew were set up at the doctor’s house.</p>
<p>His stupid, traitorous heart thumped in affection, and he didn’t even have the energy to silence it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two days later Roy was bundled up and propped up securely in the back of the wagon. He was basically held up by the bags of flour, beans, and sugar packed in around him. The plow was there, too, good as new. Apparently while he’d been battling the devil, Timothy had enough time to fix it.</p>
<p>Jason must’ve talked with him, but when he’d asked about it, Jason had tightened his lips both metaphorically and physically.</p>
<p>Jason sat up front, holding the reins and directing Arsenal and Speedy toward the farm.</p>
<p>The gentle rocking motions of the journey was soothing in its own way, and he drifted in and out of sleep as the familiar country side slipped by.</p>
<p>He kept waking, a hundred questions still swirling in his mind. He didn’t know much about what happened after he’d intercepted Sheriff’s Floyd shot, Jason always looking dodgy when he asked.</p>
<p>But he had to know.</p>
<p>He <em>had to know </em>how much time they had left.</p>
<p>“Did you get pardoned, or something?” he asked, groggy but clear headed enough. The medicine the doctor sent along with them was powerful stuff.</p>
<p>Jason hummed, half turning to look at him.</p>
<p>“You… the Sheriff was looking for you. And wanted to shoot you. But now we drove out of town in broad daylight, and no one stopped us.”</p>
<p>Jason’s jaw clenched. “Don’t worry that pretty head about it.”</p>
<p>Roy flushed. He was no stranger to Jason’s terrible habit of flirting with everyone, his friends most of all. But since he’d woken with Jason at his bedside, the banter had taken on a… fond edge to it. It was a lot.</p>
<p>“Jay. Please. I can’t do the uncertain thing anymore. I can’t stand not knowing if you’re in trouble. Or how careful I have to be. What happened?”</p>
<p>Jason was quiet for several minutes. The wagon hit a bump, jostling Roy painfully.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Jason mumbled, reaching back blind to pat Roy’s shoulder. “We struck a deal. I can stay to help you, and then. I owe him, if I want to stay longer.”</p>
<p>“What kind of debt.”</p>
<p>“Just some work. Not as one of his deputies, but some other work.” Roy could hear the smile when he added, “And I promised to shoot each and every one of his gang if he didn’t.”</p>
<p>Roy snorted despite himself. <em>That</em> sounded like Jason. His head lolled against Jason’s arm, letting his eyes close. “And? Are you going to stay?”</p>
<p>Jason said nothing, but then, Roy was already falling asleep. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first week was the hardest. Roy was exhausted and always aching, unable to do much more than sit up against pillows and hold a plate to feed himself. Jason had to help him bath and neither of them said a word as they did. He slept most of the time, taking the painkillers only the first day and then preferring to suffer the rest of the time. It was better than the memories of before he’d sobered up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The second week was the hardest. He was getting his strength back, was awake and clear most of the time, but barely able to do more than move from one room to the next to stoke the fire or do the mending. His arm was useless and still wrapped tight against his chest. He still needed help dressing, and Jason was nothing except brief and polite and it was killing him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The third week was the hardest. He could do the chores inside now, sweeping one-handed, cooking, help with laundry, clean what had fallen into filth in their absence. He could do all that, and stand at the window or on the porch, watching Jason toil endless and tirelessly around the farm. He did everything Roy asked him and then some. He took care of the crops, the animals, the land.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The fourth week was the hardest. He followed Jason around and helped where he could, but his healing arm tired easily and his range of movement wasn’t half restored yet. He could only direct and help and fret about what it could’ve been like if he’d been like this and Jason hadn’t stayed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And on it went, a cycling routine more familiar and quiet than it’d ever been before. Roy was antsy every moment, because he was comfortable and happy and it <em>couldn’t last. </em>The last visit to town had proved that.</p>
<p>His body ached from the constant tension of waiting for the other shoe to drop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why don’t you ever feed me anything good,” Jason asked one afternoon after lunch, boots propped on the chair he’d taken to pulling up next to him. He used a knife to pick between his teeth, and Roy hadn’t been able to look away from him for several terrible minutes.</p>
<p>“You liar. I feed you better than you deserve.”</p>
<p>Jason snorted, but his tragically blue eyes were smiling all on their own. Roy had done a lot of stupid things because of those eyes lately. The top of the list letting a criminal sleep at his hearth.</p>
<p>He couldn’t help admitting, privately and pathetic to himself, that it had been so nice having company.</p>
<p>“Maybe if you did something worthwhile I’d bring out the good ingredients for you,” he rapped back. But it was only a moment before he was sighing and propping one of his own boots on the edge of the chair. He didn’t mean it, and Jason knew that. They were in too deep for that. “What’s been plaguing you?”</p>
<p>Jason’s expression turned as pained and wistful as a widower. “Fried chicken.”</p>
<p>Roy swore at him, leaning forward to swat at his boots until they were off his nice chairs. “Oh <em>hush</em>, you know we don’t have chickens.”</p>
<p>“Terrible oversight,” Jason said staunchly. “You should really look about rectifying that.”</p>
<p>“Go into town if you want it that bad. Bet that fancy new barmaid knows how to make it.” He stood and collected their plates to dump into the sink for now. He hated doing dishes. It was nice that lately, he hadn’t had to do any. Even before his arm was out of commission.</p>
<p>Jason huffed and near spilled over the table in a dejected sprawl, like he was twelve again with no blood on his hands. “Oh, so you keep warning me to steer clear of the Sheriff, let me get shot at—”</p>
<p>“I took the shot for you! You ungrateful cow!”</p>
<p>“—but <em>now</em> I can go risk my neck.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like a personal problem. <em>My problem, </em>is that broken stretch of fence at the other end of the pasture. Give me a hand, and I might make you something nice for supper.”</p>
<p>“Lucky me. I’ll meet you out there.”</p>
<p>Roy nodded, pulling on his work gloves. “Bring Arsenal with the work wagon. I’ll take Robin to round up the cattle so we have some room.”</p>
<p>Jason laughed. “Careful there, he’s got a real soft mouth. He’ll take off without’cha.”</p>
<p>Roy waved him off, but it was a valid concern. Robin was sensitive and jumpy; slight, fast, and all legs. Perfect for an outlaw looking for a quick getaway, not so great for farm work.</p>
<p>But when he went to get Robin’s tack, the hooks where they’d come to live were empty.</p>
<p>The stall was empty.</p>
<p>The hill just behind the woodshed, where the horses like to graze and laze beneath the apple trees, was empty.</p>
<p>Roy allowed himself a generous moment to sigh crestfallen and to be surprised when he really shouldn’t have. Jason was… Jason. He was still prone to his secret absences and errands. He always came back, rarely let the sun go down too many times without him returning. Roy had half a mind it was so he didn’t worry, but that was giving Jason a lot of credit. But regardless, he always came back, usually with some trinket to win Roy’s silence, something for a the table, or a few crisp bills slipped into Roy’s bank box beneath his bed when he wasn’t looking.</p>
<p>It was enough to make a man worry, but Jason wasn’t his responsibility to worry over. He was free to do what he wished, long as he didn’t keep bringing trouble at his heels.</p>
<p>He gave up on the idea of fixing the fence today, instead trudging out to the shed to split logs for wood later. He could at least do that with one arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason returned just as it was getting dark.</p>
<p>Roy hadn’t managed to convince himself to fix supper, a silly part of him waiting for Jason to get back. He was mending on the front porch in whatever light he could squeeze from the day, and therefore a perfect vantage point to see Jason come up over the hill in the direction of town.</p>
<p>Robin ate up the distance easily, and soon enough Jason was spilling to the ground, all smiles and boyish glee, blood dried around a split in his bottom lip.</p>
<p>Roy <em>fucking hated</em> how it only made him want to kiss Jason more.</p>
<p>“Missed you at the fence today.”</p>
<p>Jason’s face fell, searching Roy’s for the upset that was clearly there, eyes flickering to Roy’s mending shoulder. He had the decency to look slightly cowed. “What? You still went out there?”</p>
<p>Roy let him stew for a minute, and then shook his head, focusing down at the patch on his coat, grimacing at the immediate stick into his thumb. Jason’s favorite crimson vest lay folded neatly on the stack next to his chair. “No. Would’a been a waste of my time without a second pair of hands. Always something else to be done.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Jason said.</p>
<p>When Roy glanced up, Jason looked almost angry, mouth pinched and eyes downcast.</p>
<p>“Where’d you go, that was so important?”</p>
<p>“Around. Some business to take care of.”</p>
<p>“M<em>hmm,” </em>Roy hummed. Over his stitches he saw black boots shifting in the dust.</p>
<p>After some shuffling, Jason threw his pack onto the bottom stairs of the porch. Roy only paused to look because Jason never brought it in out of the barn. He’d pretended not to notice that Jason was always a warning’s notice away from being ready to bolt.</p>
<p>The saddlebags were next, and out of one he carefully drew a small wicker basket with a lid loosely fastened.</p>
<p>“Here,” he said gruffly, and came to Roy’s feet to thrust the basket into his lap. He crouched down, loosening the red bandanna around his neck, and watched Roy with enough open vestment that Roy couldn’t help but flick back the lid.</p>
<p>Nine fluffy chicks peeped up at him, swarming each other and looking for food. Another one of Jason’s bandannas was nestled in the bottom as a cushion.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You don’t have any chickens. And I want fried chicken.”</p>
<p>It startled a laugh out of Roy. For a long moment he could only look. “You can’t—I can’t cook these, they’re too small.”</p>
<p>“Thick in the head, I swear,” Jason grumbled, and pushed himself up with a hand on Roy’s knee. He came back from his horse with something hanging from his hand.</p>
<p>“Is that—<em>thick</em> you say, that’s a <em>duck</em>, Jason!”</p>
<p>The grin returned to Jason’s face, holding the duck up higher. “Short notice, but I found something. Heard the fat crisps up like a dream. Get to frying.”</p>
<p>Roy stammered, holding up the basket of chicks in a wild gesture. “What do I do with these? I don’t have a coop for them, you idiot.”</p>
<p>Jason scoffed. “Then I’ll build you one, <em>jesus, Harper. </em>This ain’t complicated.”</p>
<p>Roy didn’t want to look too closely at all this, didn’t think he could handle what it might mean. He had lost more, for assuming less, before.</p>
<p>“Unbelievable,” Roy snapped. Amusement filtered through anyway, and he hated that Jason heard it, and he hated that he was so weak, and he hated Jason Todd for standing on his porch streaked in dust and blood and who knew what else with fucking <em>chickens</em> for him. “You’re a criminal.”</p>
<p>Jason put on an apologetic face, taking his hat off and holding it to his chest. “Sir, I’m a cowboy, honest and true.”</p>
<p>“Nothin’ about you is honest.”</p>
<p>That awful grin came back, slashing Jason’s face open as true as anything. “No?”</p>
<p>“No. Nothing you’ve told me has been honest.”</p>
<p>“Honest enough, where it matters.” Jason came closer, calloused finger running feather-light under Roy’s chin, eyes sparking. Roy hated when they did that: it meant he’d found a space to wriggle himself deeper in Roy’s life.</p>
<p>Roy looked down at the bag with Jason’s entire life carefully packed away. “Well,” he drawled, “you gonna bring that inside?”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t gonna unless you told me I could,” Jason said, but there was a shadow at the corner of his mouth, betraying uncertainty.</p>
<p>Roy really should’ve given it more thought, weighing danger and what he was bringing under his roof. But even he knew he’d thrown that out long ago. He stood and wrapped a hand in Jason’s jacket, the little basket wrapped protectively in his arm against his chest, and tugged Jason forward fast and hard.</p>
<p>“I suppose that depends on whether the bag is going to stay where it’s put.”</p>
<p>“Is that what you want?”</p>
<p>“Think it matters more if that’s what <em>you</em> want.”</p>
<p>Jason barely paused. “Robin’s probably tired of runnin’, anyway.”</p>
<p>Roy wasn’t sure he believed Jason was willing to put down roots just like that, but he didn’t think he’d mind the occasional absence. “Well then it’s a good thing Arsenal’s grown so fond of him.”</p>
<p>Jason <em>beamed</em>, smiling so bright he looked like a kid again, looked young and like when Roy had met him and nothing had happened just yet to tarnish it.</p>
<p>Roy <em>had </em>to kiss him. He had to, no one on this damn dusty earth could blame him for kissing that mouth. Not when Jason tasted like relief and joy and something heady like smoke.</p>
<p>“Let’s go inside, you can make me supper,” Roy teased, “for making me wait and worry.”</p>
<p>“Supper can wait,” Jason said, letting the words graze against Roy’s mouth. “Put the chicks on the table, they can wait, too.”</p>
<p>Roy shivered, and was all too happy to listen. Just this once.</p>
<p> </p>
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